


you would treat it tenderly.

by papencuts



Series: cherry wine [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Fic, a tad of PTSD, accidental proposing, andrew and neil are IN LOVE, andrew works through his feelings for neil, fuck nora sakavic this is the one universe where they get married, it's not out of character if the AU affects their personalities and that's FINAL, let andrew say Love, miscommunication about marriage, snippets of their life together, the joint titles of the two works in the series makes up the captive prince quote, they get married, they talk about their feelings, they're better at communciating AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22183975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papencuts/pseuds/papencuts
Summary: Andrew sipped on his soup and when Neil shifted a little, he blurted, “Don’t go.” Neil looked at him sharply, eyes narrowing before finding something there, making Neil soften entirely. “I won’t. It’s okay, Drew, I’ll stay.” His tone was placating but it didn’t grate on Andrew; for some reason it was the greatest consolation.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: cherry wine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596874
Comments: 10
Kudos: 233





	you would treat it tenderly.

**Author's Note:**

> a look into the inverse relationship, with some parallels because i am the twinyards biggest stan. they get married because i don't know a Nora Said In The Extra Content They Would Never Get Married And Probably Wouldn't Stay Together. i've never even heard that name.

Andrew sat at his desk, in his office, in his apartment, allowing himself the peace that came with his position for the first time in a long time, work finished on the laptop he closed. Between his own and Neil’s progress over the past six years, they’d made headway in becoming, in Bee’s words, better people. This however, had not come without its trials and its pressures on both Andrew and Neil, and Andrew is sure that in one of the many, many other universes out there, he and Neil would not have made it through. 

But in this one, they had. And despite his initial grievances and general apathy towards it, he’d found Neil looking at wedding bands online (and then proceed to pretend it never happened when questioned about it, cheeks flushed) so Andrew had a platinum band, thin enough to slip of Neil’s scarred finger whenever Andrew felt like asking, and Neil felt like saying  _ yes _ once more. Hidden away in the first drawer on the left of his desk, it often found itself at the forefront of Andrew’s mind. Like when Neil brought him a coffee, but really it was a shot of espresso through some cream and sugar syrup, apropos of nothing, simply because  _ “You always get one around four on days you’re working.”  _

Like when Andrew had walked in on Neil brushing through King’s fur and muttering to her, half in baby-talk and half in German. “ _ Yes, I know he’s mean to you. Yes, I know he kicked you off the bed that one time but he felt so bad he drove you to the vet. You didn’t see his face when the vet said you had a sprained paw. He’s just grumpy. Somebody hurt him real bad, but he still loves us. He just shows it in his own way.”  _ Andrew slinked back to his office and wondered if Neil had ever spoken to Bee (or anyone else, ever, really) like that. 

Like when Andrew kicked the door back into its frame so hard the wood splintered just above the lock. Ripples had appeared in the water in the cats’ bowls, as if echoing the slam of the door before his eyes. Neil had rounded the corner of the hallway that led to their bedroom and Andrew’s office, wearing Andrew’s reading glasses. Distantly, Andrew imagined Neil sitting at his desk, curled up in the expensive leather chair, enveloped in a book. He’d had to start coming home earlier.  _ “Andrew?” _ he’d asked, clearly a question. Immediately, the mental image dissipated in favour of a much less agreeable one. Three seconds in, two second hold, four seconds out, Bee would be very proud of him. “ _ I thought I saw him. On the train. I swear I-”  _ he’d rasped, and Neil appeared with a towel. Ah, he distantly was reminded. He’d walked most of the way home. It’d taken twice as long, and it was raining something awful. He was dripping on the wood. “ _ He’s dead, Drew. Gone. You’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you.”  _ Yeah, Andrew reminded himself, you are way more dangerous than he ever was. Neil had never, and would never hurt him. 

Like when Andrew was ardently fighting a fever and had been holding in his coughs for the past thirty minutes.  _ “Are you sure you’re alright?” _ Neil had asked, eyes suspicious where the curve of his lips was soft and hands gentle where they rested on Andrew’s ankles. Andrew shot him a flat glare as a tiny cough escaped him. “ _ Is this your civil protest against being a functioning human?”  _ he asked, giving his ankle a gentle squeeze. Andrew just stared at the TV again, ignoring him completely. Eventually he got up, and for a horrible moment, Andrew felt guilt and fear surface through his feverish haze. What if Neil left him? Where would he be? Who would he be? When Neil returned (because  _ of course  _ he was coming back, Andrew was clearly delirious) he handed him some chicken soup in a mug, knowing of Andrew’s opposition to bowls (with the exception of bowls containing ice cream) and a fork to collect the noodles with. “ _ Just in case you happened to be feeling under the weather.”  _ Andrew sipped on his soup and when Neil shifted a little, he blurted, “ _ Don’t go. _ ” Neil looked at him sharply, eyes narrowing before finding something there, making Neil soften entirely. “ _ I won’t. It’s okay, Drew, I’ll stay.” _ His tone was placating but it didn’t grate on Andrew; for some reason it was the greatest consolation. 

“Andrew, I asked if you’d like to-” 

“Yes or no?” he interjected, eyes flicking to where Neil stood at the doorframe, slim hand wrapped around where the lock would have been, but they’d agreed to no locked doors in the house. 

Confusion flicked over his scarred face, the tiny one at the corner of his top lip quirking slightly. Neil had never explained that one, but when Andrew had suggested it came from a resuscitating a stapler with mouth to mouth, Neil had laughed, so. Neil liked the memory of that conversation more than he liked the real memory, he had said. 

“Yes,” Neil said after a moment, searching Andrew’s face. Breaking the eye contact, Andrew reached into the drawer and pulled out the pretentious black velvet box. He tossed it to Neil, whose reflexes were knife sharp, but it landed far too softly in calloused palm to be justified by physics. 

Slowly, under Andrew’s imploring (and nervous, under layers of apathy), Neil rotated the box in his hands, opening it. As if desperate to make Andrew’s rabbit heart skip even faster, Neil shot his eyes back up to Andrew’s, hard as steel, red hot in their anger. 

“Are you making fun of me?” he demanded, claiming the no-man’s-land between them in two long strides. He placed the open box on the desk. “What does this even mean, Andrew?” 

“Yes or no?” he asked, voice quieter than he’d initially intended. 

Neil seemed to falter slightly, looking lost, defences dropping a fraction. “Are you serious right now? You’re asking to marry me?” 

“I’m dead serious. I saw you looking at them a few months ago,” he said, his hard edges softened by the untethered truths of his own vulnerability. 

“I was helping Dan pick one out for Matt.” Andrew’s heart leaped in his chest, a sudden fear he had miscalculated this whole ordeal. “Did you think I was… I was looking for  _ us _ ?” he said, dropping into the chair opposite Andrew’s, a slab of wood separating them both. 

Andrew knocked on it once, looking out the window. He would never admit it, but his cheeks were burning. He did not see the smile appear on Neil’s face. 

“God, you’re such a softie. Oh, Andrew. And your response to that was to buy me one and propose to me. Andrew, you are…” Neil whispered, reaching out and very, very tenderly brushing over Andrew’s knuckles, allowing him the dignity of avoiding eye contact. “Would you still like an answer?” Neil asked after a beat, searching for Andrew’s eyes. 

“You thought I was mocking you,” Andrew whispered, and he tried not to hate himself for the hurt in his voice. “Neil, I would never- not about something like this-” he stumbled, chasing after his own words, meeting sky blue eyes in his moment of weakness. 

Neil squeezed his hand and nodded. “I know. I’m sorry, I know you’ve come a long way. I’m not used to… any of this. It’s easier to assume the worst of the people I love the most,” Neil said softly. “But I have an answer. If you’d like one.” Neil’s eyes were the sweetest, clearest pools that Andrew had ever drowned in, and to anyone else, they’d be flat sheets of ice. He revelled in their hidden warmth as he gave a short nod. 

“Yes, Andrew. I’d marry you. I will, if it’s what you want,” he said, confident and placating. 

Andrew’s eyes widened slightly, he felt it happen, and then smoothed himself over gently. “You would want that too?” he asked, voice so quiet and betraying his nervousness. He gave a tiny cough, as if Neil would believe he was just clearing his throat instead of trying to break through his own vulnerability. 

Neil nodded, bring Andrew’s knuckles to his lips, dry and chapped and ever-tender as they settled over long-bruised bones. “Yes, I would. I do want that. It wasn’t ever a big thought, I didn’t think you’d want-” 

“I do. Want that,” Andrew interrupted, embarrassingly urgent. He didn’t want to fuck this up. This may well be his only universe left, where this is not nothing and he knows it and he can admit (albeit very rarely) the depth of feeling he held for Neil. Love, he believes. It’s love. 

Neil looked amused in the most tender of ways, holding onto Andrew. “Apparently,” he said through a soft huff, bemused in a way that was almost unbelieving. 

  
  


It wasn’t a grand affair, it wasn’t a springtime wedding in someone’s backyard with suits or gowns of any sort. 

It was a few weeks after, allowing time for an onyx threaded with white gold wedding band to arrive in the post. It was a drive downtown to the government services building, a bland looking brick building filled with work visa applications and teenagers applying for driver’s licenses. Andrew and Neil held hands the entire time they waited in the queue, and if Neil noticed the offended lady in line behind them, he didn’t mention it. Neither did Andrew, because deep down, he realised that this was a memory he so, so desperately wanted to hold onto. He’d cherish it along with many other (Neil-related, mostly) memories he’d made in the past three years, where Bee had been teaching him to allow himself the goodness and the happiness he was given. Allowing himself to listen to her even when Andrew felt the therapy wasn’t helping. Allow himself to progress into, in Bee’s words, a better man. 

Together, they sat in an overheated room with barren walls and a government worker who looked like she’d rather be doing anything else, signing documents until the lady looked between them. 

“I guess you’re married now. The state congratulates you on your union. No alcohol is to be consumed on the premises. We wish you a pleasant marriage.” 

It was as bland and perfunctory as Andrew had anticipated, but once they were back outside, they held each other’s hands and slid on rings, Andrew not able to even pull out a cigarette before he felt the softest, “ _ Yes or no?” _ whispered against his lips. 

“Yes,” he said, kissing Neil once, “yes, unless it’s no,” Andrew breathed, hands going to Neil’s neck and holding him, allowing himself to be pushed up against the world’s most boring bricks and kissed by the best of all men. They stayed there, like that, for some time. 

(Almost twelve months later, during one of Allison and Renee’s Foxes bring-all-barbecues, Nicky gave a graceless squawk and gestured wildly at Neil and Andrew where they stood, shoulder to shoulder, hands holding ice water and whiskey respectively. Both with their left hands. 

“ _ Rings? _ ” Nicky demanded, immediately drawing everyone’s attention to their hands. “You got  _ married _ ?” 

Andrew rolled his eyes but the tiniest of smiles was undeniable. “Mind your business, Klose-Hemmick.” 

“But who proposed?” Allison demanded, eyes narrow, and Andrew sensed a bet there somewhere. Neil humoured her and raised his eyebrows. 

“Andrew’s secretly very traditional,” was all he said, and Renee immediately stuck out her hand collecting wads of cash and telling people her Venmo username. Andrew just took a seat in one of the poolside chairs and wrapped an arm around Neil as the latter took up residence in his lap. Soft lips met Andrew’s own. “Marriage suits you.” were the words whispered on his lips, and Andrew laughed as he leaned into the touch, kissing Neil with gentle purpose. 

Andrew would have never, ever imagined it, but right there, in that universe, Neil was right. It did.)

  
  



End file.
